She cringed but sensed he was actually trying to be nice in the only way a twenty-year-old could. She shook her head. “No, thank you. I have to—”
He yanked out his cigar from his pocket and held it out, offering that instead.
A startled laugh escaped her. “No, thank you, sir. I don’t smoke.”
He tucked away the cigar and hurriedly pulled out a deck of cards from his other pocket. He held up the warped deck and gestured to her and then himself, asking if she wanted to play cards.
Another laugh escaped her. “Whilst I appreciate all the generous offers, I am actually looking for someone.” She tried to slow her speech in the hopes that he would understand. “Did you happen to see a gentleman leave my room? Do you know where he went?”
He squinted at her, shoving the deck of cards back into his pocket. “Man?”
“Yes. A man.” She tapped at her hair. “Dark hair. Did you see him?”
He held up his hand high over his head and then hit each arm as if to demonstrate Mr. Levin’s tall, muscled frame. He gestured down the corridor. “Outside.”
Thank goodness there was a sighting. “Bolshoe spasibo,” she offered. Thank you was the only Russian word she did know.
He pointed at her, grinning. “Russian.” He wagged the tip of his fingers, insisting she say more in his language.
Something told her he would keep her in the corridor all night if she let him. “I’m so sorry, but I really should find my travelling companion.” She smiled, closed the door behind her and locked it with the key, clutching it. “I wish you a good-evening, sir.”
He hesitated and then pointed to himself. “Markov.”
The boy was adorable. “Thank you for the wonderful conversation, Mr. Markov.”
He inclined his head twice, searching her face. Falling against the wall beside his door, he slowly held up a wistful hand.
Russian men certainly were nice. It made a woman want to get lost in Russia. She swept down the narrow corridor in the opposite direction. Her feet grew colder against the rough wood as she hurried down the staircase. She winced, feeling splinters digging into the soles of her feet and glanced behind herself, shoving the key from the room into the bosom of her gown to keep herself from dropping it.
Coming to the bottom of the main stairwell, she scanned the dilapidated hall of the inn whose iron sconces hung crookedly from the uneven walls. It was eerily quiet. The main hearth filled with coal which had earlier seen countless people gathered around it, glowed on its own.
Clutching the folds of her skirt, she noticed an open side entrance leading into the darkness. She hurried out through that door. “Mr. Levin?”
The crisp, night air frilled the skin beneath her gown with gooseflesh. Her stockinged toes suddenly sunk into icy, thick mud. She groaned, jumped toward the stone path and darted into a barren side garden. Fortunately, it wasn’t freezing outside and the snow was completely melted. “Mr. Levin?” she called out again. “Are you out here?”
There was no response.
Oh, God. What if something happened to him?
The night was remarkably still as a full moon sat high, casting a vibrant white glow across the shadows. Unnerved breaths escaped her, frosting the air as she hurried into the garden past a small stable illuminated by the brightness of the moon. Earthy smells filled her nostrils as horses quietly neighed, some poking out their shadowed heads, acknowledging her presence.
She glanced around the isolated mossy grounds and large, shadowed trees and paused. A faint, golden glow from the planked crevices of a small wooden bathhouse greeted her.
She blinked. Was he…bathing? At this hour?
She gripped the fabric of her gown. Pinching her lips, she envisioned his broad back and wet, flexing muscles covered in soap and his black hair dripping and hanging into those green eyes. Given the bulk of his arms that had strained his travelling coat, she was quite certain there was plenty more attached to whatever she could envision. It was time to go.
Scuffing steps from behind made her snap toward the sound.
The shadow of a very large man resembling a gorilla emerged from the stables. He staggered and made his way toward her. Slurring something in Russian, he unbuttoned his trousers and shoved the flap of his trousers down. He yanked out a stubby cock.
Her eyes widened as the hairs on her nape stood on end. She darted straight for the door of the bathhouse. “Mr. Levin!” She prayed to God he was in that bathhouse. “Mr. Leviiiiin!”
Lesson Four
Have faith in your worth as a man and a woman of worth will have faith in you.
-The School of Gallantry
Upon hearing his name in English through the haze of sleep he had unknowingly succumbed to after a very successful session of masturbation where he’d imagined Lady Stone doing all sorts of things to him, Konstantin sat up, sending a whirling splash of water around the massive wooden tub. He glanced toward the plank door of the bathhouse. The influence of the hot water and the lone candle waving inside the glass-encased lantern had lulled him into a sleep he hadn’t been able to find earlier.
Had he imagined Lady Stone yelling for him? He’d certainly imagined her yelling beneath him in pleasure a moment ago. He surged to his feet, water streaming from his naked body. Climbing out of the massive tub, which took some effort given its size, he snatched the towel the innkeeper had provided him and got out.
The door to the bathhouse banged wide open as Lady Stone skidded inside. “Mr. Levin! A man…he…help!”
His heart pounded in utter disbelief as he smacked the towel against his exposed cock. The colder evening air licked his wet skin as he stared wordlessly down at Lady Stone who was almost on top of him.
She frantically pointed toward a man outside of the bathhouse.
The man was urinating.
The oaf peered at them from over his shoulder and sniffed loudly, finishing his business with an unrefined tug of his trousers. Staggering away, he slurred something in Russian about horses defecating too much and disappeared back into the shadows of the stables.
Konstantin eyed Lady Stone. “You are safe.”
Her full breasts rose and fell. “I…I’m so sorry.”
“Do not be.”
She edged back and back, her stockings visibly muddy. She stared at the towel he barely bundled against his lower half and tried to grab the door to close it but kept missing because she was too occupied with looking.
He officially felt attractive.
She smacked her hands over her entire face. “I can’t believe you’re—” She jerked toward the narrow open door but slipped against the wet boards. “Ah!”
He jumped toward her and grabbed her by the waist hard to keep her from falling and hitting her head against the nearest plank wall. He stumbled against the wetness of the floorboards, realizing he had dropped the towel. Though he tried to balance himself with his own weight, he couldn’t.
They fell back.
Turning his body to better take the impact, he savagely held onto her to keep her from getting hurt as the wooden ledge slammed against the back of his legs, stinging his flesh.
He tipped backward with her into the water.
She screamed, trying to grab for something other than him as soap suds and water rose up around them from the large round tub like a massive wave crashing to shore. Liquid warmth drowned out both air and sound upon impact, dunking them both.
He couldn’t breathe as water rushed up his nostrils and burned his throat.
Konstantin scrambled to sit in the tub, sputtering out water and yanked Lady Stone up and out of the water by her arms. He coughed, trying to get the water out of his throat.
“Pffff!” She blindly staggered on her knees in the water between his well-spread legs.
He sucked in a breath knowing his cock was fully visible through the soapy water and that she was between his legs.
Her hands pushed away pasted strands of long dark hair from her forehead as water cascaded
from unpinned sections that flopped down onto her shoulders. Pins plunked into the water one by one by one. She stumbled and steadied her hands against his bare chest.
She stilled, her velvet gown billowing around them as it covered almost every inch of the water. Except for where he and his cock were.
Her glistening face was now barely inches from his own.
“Do not look down,” he offered in a low, cautionary tone.
She intently held his gaze. “Duly noted.”
For some reason, she wasn’t scrambling to get out. She also wasn’t removing her hands from his bare chest. In fact, he felt those slim fingers slowly tighten their hold.
Konstantin searched her face, trying to remain calm. Her long dark hair floated around their waists in the water along with her gown. She looked very different. She looked less prim and more provocative.
He lowered his eyes unwittingly to her wet, parted lips, feeling trails of warm water trickling down his face and chin from his own hair.
The rustling of water and their unsteady breaths were the only sounds.
Her lips parted as she searched his face.
It was as if she was waiting for him to do something.
His cock hardened. He could feel his erection pointing rigidly toward her in the water, demanding she be the one. And although, yes and yes, he wanted to grab her and fuck her until all the water left the tub, he knew that would be taking advantage of a woman who had just been drugged and robbed barely thirteen hours ago. Hardly a nice thing to do.
He leaned back, trying to regain control over his lower half. As casually as he could manage, he rasped, “Do you require assistance getting out?”
She searched his face as if astounded. “Uh…no. Thank you. No, I…” She glanced away and fumbled to get out of the wooden tub. The weight of her gown kept pulling her back. She stumbled against him in the water.
Konstantin steadied her. “Close your eyes. I have to get out.” He rose and pressed both hands to his erection, trying to cover it.
She glanced up at his nudity, her eyes jumping to his protruding erection.
He shot her an exasperated look. “I asked you to close your eyes.”
She slapped her hands over her face.
And he thought women of status were respectable. Ha. Climbing out, he snatched the towel up from the wet floorboards and used it to dry himself, wishing his erection would subside.
He scrambled to gather his clothes, yanked on his linen shirt and donned his undergarments and dark wool trousers, before shoving his feet into his boots without stockings. Fully dressed, Konstantin approached the tub she still sat in and held out a hand. “Allow me to assist you out.”
She pressed her hands against her eyes. “Are you dressed?” she primly asked.
“Does it matter?” he chided. “You have already seen everything.”
She winced. “Forgive me for that.” She opened her eyes somewhat sheepishly and seeing that he was, in fact, dressed, quickly reached up and grabbed his hand.
He grabbed her other hand and yanked her up in one swoop, his muscles straining against the weight of her wet gown which was dragging her in the opposite direction. “It would be much easier if you removed your gown.”
“There is no need. I will manage.”
“But the weight of the water is going to—”
“I will manage, Mr. Levin.” Holding his hand, she stumbled out of the tub and onto the floorboards, spraying water everywhere.
He scrambled back, realizing sections of his clothes were now drenched and sticking to his skin. He huffed out a breath in exasperation and released her hand. “I will wait outside whilst you…manage.” Shoving open the door of the bathhouse, he stepped out into the pale light of the moon. Shaking his head, he lifted his linen shirt from against his skin and wrung out whatever he could.
She staggered out after him, dripping wet. She groaned, clutching at her clinging skirts and then smacked her sides, the sound as wet as she looked. “My only gown is soaked. Soaked.”
“It will be fine.”
“So says a man with a sack full of dry clothing. I have no other clothes!”
“We will set your gown before the hearth and let it dry.”
“It will take a whole day to dry a gown like this,” she muttered.
“Fortunately for you, we do not travel for another two.” Konstantin turned toward her, still wringing out his own linen shirt and paused, skimming her from shoulder to feet. Her wet, velvet dress clung seductively to every luscious curve of that body. Glorious, full breasts beckoned as they pressed against the wet fabric of her bodice.
She looked half-naked.
Damn. He rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek before blurting, “Might I ask why you followed me? Knowing I was bathing?” He had to know the answer to this one.
“I didn’t know you were bathing,” she argued. “For heaven’s sake, it’s three o’clock in the morning! Who bathes at such an ungodly hour?”
“I do.” He shrugged. “I could not sleep.” Not with her in the room. Sadly, masturbation was a very necessary evil. It was how he survived without a woman for as long as he had. He had never been one for prostitutes and the women he was interested in either snubbed him or never gave him more than a night due to their fear of their family finding out they were involved with a ‘criminal’. When it came to women, it was obvious he was going to need that one hundred thousand to lure in what he wanted.
“You didn’t even lock the door when you left,” she grouched as she wrung out section after section of her skirt in between uneven steps. “Fortunately, we seem to be surrounded by decent people. I met a man next door to ours. He was incredibly pleasant.”
“I am certain he was.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She kept walking unevenly against the weight of her gown, the fabric dragging and dragging against the stone path.
Following the glistening stream of water she’d trailed, Konstantin smirked and fell into stride beside her knowing she clearly needed help. “Turn toward me.”
She jerked to a halt. “Why?”
“You are barely walking.” He knelt before her, grabbed up heavy sections of her wet gown and started twisting water out of the velvet. He focused only on the task. Not on the fact that she had clearly removed her silk stockings and that her slender legs were provocatively bare. He twisted and twisted and wrung the material around her gown harder until eventually half its weight was diminished.
She watched him from above and eventually said, “I find it difficult to place the sort of man you are.”
He glanced up, releasing her gown. “Hm? What do you mean?”
“You appear to be a gentleman and are impressively well spoken in the English language and yet you don’t even wear a cravat.”
He’d been accused of that before. “I had a rather unusual upbringing. My father was a privileged gentleman who veered off the respectable path.” He made sure not to mention how.
“Have you ever been married?” she prodded.
He rose to his feet, straightening. “No. Why do you ask?”
Those prim features wavered in the shadows of the garden. She shrugged and looked away. “I was curious, is all.”
By God. Was it possible she was actually interested in getting to know him? As a person? As a man? This was a first. And he didn’t even have one hundred thousand in his pocket yet. “Uh…I was engaged once. When I was younger. She was from a decent family but my father didn’t approve. He was very protective of me. So he hired a few men to…investigate her life and it was discovered she was seeing three other men. It hurt but I got over it. Since then, I was involved with a few women but it always ended with my face against a floor. I make poor choices when it comes to women. I want the moon but can only afford peat moss.” He tapped at his head. “I am not very nimble.”
Her eyes caught and held his. “I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Levin.”
“So says the woman who is no
t involved with me. Hardly helpful.”
A bubble of a laugh escaped her.
He smiled and leaned in. “Tell me more about yourself. You said you have a son and three daughters. Which, in truth, astounds me. What are their ages and names?”
She smiled as if he had finally introduced a topic she could gush about. “John is my eldest and the one I came into Russia for. My second eldest is Giselle. She is sixteen. Abigail is fifteen and then there is my youngest, Juliet.” Her tone softened. “She is thirteen and is always at the cook’s elbow. There isn’t a thing that child won’t eat.”
He searched her face. Listening to her made him realize just how little he had seen of life as a man. He missed having a family. Here he was at thirty and what did he have to show for it? Nothing but all the fists he had dodged. “They sound endearing.”
Her smile widened. “They most certainly are.”
That smile said it all. She was part of a happy family. The sort a man rarely saw. “I take it you were happily married, as well?”
Her smile faded. She looked away. “Whilst I am close to my children, my husband and I were not so fortunate. Which was to be expected. He married me for my youth and I married him for his money.”
His brows went up. “I am rather surprised. You appear to be a bit more passionate in nature than to settle for anything less than what beats in your heart.”
She didn’t look at him. “The heart does not pay bills, Mr. Levin. My mother married for love and it taught me well. Whilst my father was titled, he had very little to his name. We struggled to keep creditors from our doors all our lives and lived off the generosity of relatives who openly mocked us. One relative, in particular, wanted me to marry his son as if I owed him my hand in matrimony for all of the financial assistance my father had been given. I did not want that for myself and therefore settled on a relatively better man. Above all else, I wanted financial stability away from my relatives.”
“Judging by your tone, you seem unhappy with the decision you made.”
She shrugged. “My husband was not unkind. He was a much better man than my cousin who used to try to force himself on me. My husband also knew when to be generous.”
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 146